Some ruins of a 14th century church out in the back end of the Scottish Highlands. The people moved or were moved away, this was left behind.
If there is no fight, no ongoing battle to keep her from claiming the things that escape, that we raise up over her – Mother Earth comes for them. She comes with quiet hands and carries it all off, back from whence it came. We move too fast to notice and then turn around, stunned at what has happened. That’s her way. She always wins, sometimes leaving seemingly careless traces of what has gone. We treasure them, lay our hopes in their eternal glow. She’s toying with us. They are not symbols of hope, but reminders of how much has gone, and so, how much more will go. All of it. Everything. As if it never were. At all.